The music plays and can starts dancing. Suddenly there is a violent knock at the door and he shouts nervously.

CAN: POLICE! POLICE!

The police, like fleas in our blankets, are always with us. You carry a dangerous weapon, the cops get you. You go without one, the tsotsis get you. You try to have fun with your friends, the police come and raid your home. You walk mindlessly on the streets, they arrest you for loitering.

As a black man, you live the life of an object of prey, with the police always on a hunt for anyone possessing your pigmentation. Everyone you know has been to jail for one reason or another. We have become accustomed to living on the edge.

The whole atmosphere is charged with the white man's general disapproval, and where he does not have a law for it, he certainly has a grimace that cows you. Only five years ago, the government enacted the Group Areas Act of 1950, which prohibits different races from residing together. All this is done just to keep us apart.

I read English at Fort Hare not to be a black Englishman, but to prove that I can beat Europeans at their own game. I never allowed my skin colour and my circumstances to determine my future. We should not impose limits upon ourselves.

The white man enacts laws to suppress our potential. Where he cannot control our brains, he controls our movements. Is it not absurd that people who proudly call themselves Europeans come to this land – the African continent – and tell me, an African, that I do not belong here? They tell us where we should live, how we should drink and what we should write. God, they even tell us where and how to worship, as if there's a superior white God and an inferior black God.